Cookbook
by soupcon pride
Summary: They were the essential ingredients; he, the master chef and she, the one to sample the delightful reciepe of life. Layered with hope, friendship, competition as well as laughter and topped with the slightest tint of sweet love. Post Hogwarts, DMHG.
1. Chapter 1

**COOKBOOK**

**Disclaimer: all identifiable characters of the Harry Potter series belong to J.K.Rowling.**

**Third story, rather third WIP. Do read and leave your opinions. This is quite a step apart from the usual clichés. **

**Chapter-1**

**Domestic Catering Issues**

Ronald Weasley was as ordinary a wizard as could be. In fact, a few adjectives to unerringly describe the red-haired young man would all be synonymous to ordinary and simple. As a child, he had enjoyed the pleasure of a happy family and with Merlin's blessings, there was no alteration in that arena for the years that had rolled by. Nurturing a close friendship with Harry Potter had been one of the pleasant episodes of his life. He had imagined himself to remain a face in the crowd for so long that the current state of fame and popularity attached to his name was a bit mind-boggling. Whoever thought that a man like Ron would age to pursue a career as Assistant to Chief Treasurer at Gringotts, a job that offered sufficient perks to stock a vault under his name at the same bank? Life was good, excellent even.

However, Ron was not quite satisfied with his living arrangements. Not that he disliked sharing a flat with Harry; but for a man who was raised in the vicinity of mouth-watering and nutritious food, the idea of self-cooking was outlandish. He had hardly mastered the art of playing master chef while living with a clueless bachelor like himself. Both friends had laid down a few ground rules regarding the cooking schedule and unanimously acknowledged the idea of taking up kitchen duties every alternate day. It so happened that today was a sunny Tuesday morning and Ron was in-charge of breakfast and dinner. They both grabbed lunch at their workplaces and often invited Hermione along to keep them company. It was hard for the three friends to stay in touch while working, seeing that Harry was employed at the Department of Mysteries while Hermione worked as an attorney at the criminal seat of the Wizengamot.

"How I appreciate Mum now. The woman is a goddess. Whoever made bread a staple breakfast should be guillotined. Heartless chimp," muttered Ron irritably to himself as he tried hard to slice a loaf of bread into even pieces with same dimensions.

"Good morning, Ron, I'd like coffee today. It's been a while, yeah?" A yawning Harry had just stepped into the kitchen in green pyjamas that reflected the emerald hue of his eyes perfectly. He had always been an early bird and considering the hustle-bustle at the Ministry on weekdays, the ritual became a habit.

"Oh, of course, why don't you pull out the paper and make yourself comfortable? After all I'm the maestro coffee-maker in all of London. Why don't I serve you scones too while I'm at it?"

"Well…if you must, I have no objections," replied Harry, clearly missing the wild gleam in Ron's eyes.

"Tell me again, why we work individually and not as a team?"

"I'm not quite sure. It was your idea that Mondays are best for little individual labor on my part," Harry answered calmly while leafing through the _Daily Prophet._

Ron just stared at his so-called best mate, who apparently found the new model of toilet seats introduced in Diagon Alley as more significant than cooking solidarity.

"Harry," he whined, "come and help me, will you?"

"Hmm, I don't think so," he countered coolly, "Do you think blue plumbing will match our bathroom tiles better?"

"Plumb…_what_?"

"Blue plumbing. The pink is a bit too girly and hardly compliments the walls."

"I don't care about plumbing," began Ron, hastily untying his apron and washing the knife under the tap, "What are we? Some married couple?"

"I personally like the pale shade, much more macho. But if you rather have the azure scheme, I wouldn't complain," the dark-haired man ploughed on serenely, as though he were possessed by Luna Lovegood herself.

By this time, Ron had had quite enough of the verbal opinion-quest. Marching to the table where Harry was seated still reading, he pulled out a chair and snatched the paper from his friend's loose grasp.

"Listen, Harry, I'm not at all happy with _your _cooking," he began, but seeing Harry's raised eyebrows, continued quickly, "and mine is just plain intolerable. It's like I've forgotten the taste of pancakes or pudding or roast turkey or toast or chocolate cake or…"

"Or bacon or chicken fry or kidney pie or steamed salmon or milkshake," finished Harry, prying the paper from Ron.

"Exactly!!" the red-head gushed with fervor, "You understand now, right?"

Harry nodded.

"You have also come to the conclusion that we are hopeless in feeding ourselves?"

Again, Harry nodded, getting up and walking to the counter to fetch some coffee, if available.

"You are absolutely sure that we have had too much of tasteless food for too long?"

"Absolutely," Harry answered, while sipping the bitter tea, which was the chosen beverage for the morning.

"Right, so… how do we overcome this problem?"

"How about we talk after breakfast?"

"How about you make the breakfast?"

"How about NO?"

"How about why not?"

"How about… oh forget it. What is it that you wanted, Ron?"

"Finally," Ron breathed a relieved sigh, "you've acknowledged my complaints, have you? Good. Now listen to me carefully."

Harry cupped a hand around his ear mockingly, while trying to keep away the amused smile from his lips. Seeing this, Ron narrowed his eyes but having gathered his friend's attention, began presenting his case with added gusto.

"Harry, we are two unmarried men living under the same roof with limited skills in cookery. We are also at the peak of our youth and hence require adequate supply of carbohydrates, fats, proteins and what not," he said, spreading his arms wide, as though he were the mascot of all youth at their peak, "So, it is high time that we rectified this problem. What do you think?"

"I think, you are right," Harry started slowly, "but what solution do we have?"

Ron's face split into a wide grin, the likes of which Harry had seen only on a handful of occasions. He stood up abruptly from the chair and directed his friend to the bedroom, ordering him to change into decent clothes and discard the pyjamas.

"But what is wrong with these," Harry questioned, confused.

Ron merely shook his head and looked at him like he was dealing with a disobedient schoolboy.

"Well, Hermione wouldn't be happy if you flooed to her place in slime colored pyjamas, would she?"

Understanding suddenly dawned on Harry's countenance and he raced to his bedroom to choose work clothes for the day.

* * *

In a matter of minutes the duo of best friends had cleaned up nicely to make an appearance at Hermione's flat. Deeming it easier to travel by floo as decided earlier, they reached their destination, coughing a bit of ash from their windpipes.

"It would be good for you to clean the ash trails on the carpet."

There on the acid green couch sat their beloved brunette reading a case file and drinking what looked like steaming coffee.

"Blimey Hermione, your coffee smells great. Mind if I have some?" Ron enquired eagerly and without waiting for a reply, skipped off to the kitchen happily. He had just stepped into the other room when an angry screech reverberated throughout the flat.

"Ron!! This is no restaurant to provide free coffee and breakfast. Last warning for you, before I confess to Mum that you are in dire need of a wife," the red-haired witch admonished lightly while joining her flat mate and boyfriend in the living room. Ron turned a deaf ear to her exclamations and proceeded to pour himself a cup of coffee along with a plate of delicious bacon.

"Ah! This is breakfast. You girls should seriously consider better careers in catering."

Ginny was just ready to reproof her brother for stuffing her hard-prepared food, when she caught the amused look on her female companion's face and a complimentary look of revulsion on Harry's usually calm visage. He moved to the other side of the room swiftly and on reaching Ron's side, pinched him lightly, pleading with his eyes to stop the gobbling food fest and concentrate on the matter at hand.

"Ow," the abused redhead complained, "What was that for, Harry? Can't you see I'm eating?"

His friend in return gave the girls a tight smile and dragged his famine survivor of a best friend to the kitchen.

"Ron, you pig, we planned to discuss the issue with them not eat up all their food like we've been starved for months."

"See Harry," he replied serenely, still stuffing his mouth with as much bacon as he could, "Oo ba be brught up to urviv on ittl foo, buh no me."

"What?"

"I said," answered Ron, swallowing the food hastily, "you have been brought up to survive without food, but not me. Moreover, it has indeed been months since I _saw_ such good bacon. You should try some."

"Ron, focus, focus!! We are here to ask for help. How do you think they would react if we finished off their surplus food supply without consideration?"

"Harry," persisted Ron in his whining tone, "You are the chivalrous champion. You can survive without eating and gain nourishment by simply saving the world, but people like me who are in the growing stage need sufficient provisions to fill their stomachs."

Resigning himself to the fact that Ron wouldn't budge from the role of food monster anytime soon, Harry walked back to the living room to wait for him so that they could discuss the problem at hand.

"So, you _can't_ cook?" enquired Hermione for the third time that morning.

"Oh no, we _can_ cook but are scared to display our secret skills in front of others," muttered Ron sarcastically, "Of course we can't cook! My weak body should speak for itself."

He then spread his arms in quite the same way as he done with Harry in the morning, showing the weakness of his body.

"Never mind," mumbled Hermione to herself. Then turning to Harry, she asked, "What do you think I can do to help your case? If you wish me to take up your housekeeping duties, it is not possible, seeing that I have a job of my own and a flat to look after."

"Merlin's pants, Hermione, could you be any more professional?" Ron countered, before Harry could formulate a reply, "_Help your case_? Honestly, you'd think we were mass murderers in need of judicial assistance."

Ginny made an angry sound beside Harry, who like her had enough experience with Ron's lack of tact to ignore the man completely. Before a fight could ensue between his two best friends this early on a Tuesday morning, when he had three meetings to attend, Harry rushed on to stop Ron from ruining their sliming chances further.

"Yeah, Hermione," he began evenly, "we can't cook." There was a long pause following this declaration as though the real show was yet to begin. Ginny glared at Ron, Hermione raised her eyebrows in question, Ron yawned and Harry waited for him to add something to the confession. At the absence of a response from his side, he nudged the red-head hard on the ribs.

"Wha- ahem," Ron cleared his throat having caught on his friend's silent appeal, "What he said, yeah."

Harry resisted the urge to kick him painfully in the shins. Composing himself as best as he could, he addressed Hermione once again, without preamble.

"What we wanted from you was to propose a way out of this sticky situation. I mean, we have been rather hard on ourselves and I personally think that something be done soon so that we can survive while eating good food."

Hermione tapped her chin in thought. She had enough experience with the two men to know that they wouldn't have approached her had the problem not been too dismal.

"Okay, so you want better cooking arrangements," Hermione concluded correctly, "But I seriously don't advocate the use of a house-elf, seeing that it involves a huge batch of paperwork regarding their pay, retirement plans and the like. And I personally am unacquainted with anyone who would agree to play maid in your house."

"Oh, come on Hermione, you've got to help us," Ron pleaded, exasperated, "There has to be a way to save us here."

Before anybody else could speak up, Ginny cleared her throat, drawing all attention in the room. She glanced at Hermione and began talking in hushed tones with the elder female. The brown-haired witch frowned at certain intervals during her rapid whispering and at last smiled slyly at the other two.

"Right, so why don't you tell them yourself, Ginny?"

"Me!? Perhaps, my brother would rather have your ideas and disregard mine," answered Ginny, looking at her fingernails amusedly.

"For the sake of all unaided men, would you two spit it out, already? Harry! Tell them," Ron cried, having exhausted the last iota of patience. What Harry was supposed to tell them remained a mystery, for Ginny once again started speaking.

"There is no need to cry, Ron! Anyway, the suggestion that I put forth will require staid investigation and once I'm sure about the vital details, I'll tell you both about it. We'll meet you at your place after work. Six is alright?"

Ron showed all signs of demanding answers at that instant itself, so Harry clasped his hand tightly and got off the couch, dragging the confused wizard with him.

"Of course, it is alright, it's perfect! Thank you both of you. We'll see you in the evening."

"But-" Ron began.

"Bye bye. Love you Ginny, Hermione," Harry waved at the two and all but threw Ron into the fireplace after tossing a pinch of green powder into the grate.

* * *

"_Institute of Magical Hotel Management and Housekeeping_? You have got to be kidding me! There is an institute for all this and we didn't even know. Harry, I thought you knew everything."

"Sorry, but you are describing Hermione," answered Harry detachedly, eyeing the crème pamphlets with interest.

Ginny rolled her eyes at the two and Hermione smiled, pouring all of them hot chocolate, which she had managed to warm up in the Potter-Weasley kitchen.

"This is **the** premier establishment in all of Britain. Unlike muggle universities that deal in hotel management, there aren't different courses offered here, but a singular syllabus that deals with the entirety of the concept. They handpick students themselves," she said at large, pushing a mug to each inhabitant of the room, "Only those who have clear-cut plans to devote time and money in running a hotel themselves are taught here. Right from reception of guests to catering, the students on roll are taught everything that is needed to independently start and maintain a hotel. The undergraduates and graduates are generally from filthy rich families, looking for means to double their revenue."

"That is all very dandy," Ron muttered in a confused voice, "But how are we to secure an admission here, when we are working full-time? No offence, Hermione, but I've had enough of learning at Hogwarts. Moreover, Harry isn't starting a hotel anytime soon, so…there."

"Ron! You idiot, we aren't telling you to seek admission there," burst out Ginny, waving one of the pamphlets in her hand, "The admission fee itself is more than you two can afford together." She indicated a many-zeroed digit at the end of one of the pages.

"Blimey, you need so much money to learn how to cook?"

Harry, who had thoroughly read the contents of the pamphlet, shook his head.

"It's not just about cooking, Ron," Harry started tentatively, "You heard Hermione, this involves complete handling of a hotel and a huge load of gold. This isn't something for the common man.

"But I still don't understand how this is supposed to help our situation," he mumbled more to himself than anyone else in the room.

"Harry," Hermione cried, "What we had in mind was their campus selection program and training session. Apparently, every year not more than fifteen graduates are selected and employed at houses, yes, people's houses to gauge their skills. These fifteen are among the top rankers in the university and are each allotted a training period of five months, during which they serve a family, who in turn present a report to the institute regarding the candidate's performance."

"And," continued Ginny, "the chosen student has to look after the people who employ him for the stipulated period and offer all the services that are mentioned in their course syllabus. However, the employers themselves must be able to provide for him or her and cough up some caution deposit before they can get the said person home."

Ron had a dazed look on his face while Harry was smiling slightly.

"So, this means we can hire one of the students from this institute?" the green-eyed wizard questioned, happily.

"Indeed," the two women in the room chorused.

After much deliberation, it was decided that they would send a letter to IMHMH the next day itself and request a sitting with the official recruitment board. Ron was very pleased by the favorable turn of events while Harry was happy to do away with the habit of eating undercooked or burnt food. Things were definitely looking up for the two young men and they couldn't contain their glee at having resolved the domestic issue that had ruined many a good day of their lives. Thanking Merlin for the timely help, they decided to treat their savior who would guide them to the haven of good and tasty food with as much reverence as they could.

After all, they were Gryffindors. Goodness was their hallmark.

**How was it? Do review.**


	2. Unforseen Novice Tragedy

**Disclaimer: All identifiable characters of the harry Potter series belong to J.K.Rowling**

**Chapter-2**

**Unforeseen Novice Tragedy**

The relief at having resolved the issue of cookery in the kitchen did not last long, as securing an appointment with the Recruitment Board of the IMHMH was proving to be much more complicated than was presumed earlier. Even with Harry's reputation, the two friends had failed to obtain any form of contact details from the institute. Repeated disappointment paved way for agitation and Ron's moods were altering with impromptu rapidity. Harry himself had slowly given up hope and picked up the batter for preparing the agreed breakfast of pancakes that he could manage to cook up without burning or other _accidental_ mishaps. It was Monday today, almost two weeks after they had sent a letter to the institute.

"Harry," Ron began, "I don't think we are getting a cook anytime soon."

Balancing the delicate pancake on a wooden spatula, Harry answered without turning his attention from the job he was involved in.

"Don't…give up," he licked his lips as the distance between the pan and the plate was reduced considerably, "We will…man…age…Ugghh!!" The pancake toppled from the support and fell to the floor; its crème remains splattered, mocking Harry.

"Exactly what I meant. Nothing is going to change and I'll have to lick pancake off the floor now. Smashing."

"Well, at least it_ is_ pancake. Not like the burnt turkey you cooked last night," muttered Harry, irritated with his shaking hands and the slippery pancake. This had been an apposite opportunity to show Ron that he, Harry, could perform any task with great dexterity and precision if need be. That he was not the hero of the wizarding world for namesake. Seriously, cooking was tougher than killing Voldemort and hunting Horcruxes. Heck, even courting Ginny was simpler; under Ron's nose no less.

"It was duck, not turkey."

"Burnt duck and turkey taste the same, anyway. No difference."

"Harry-"

However, the rest of Ron's retort was stifled by the screech of a huge tawny owl, swooping through the window. There was a black parchment attached to its leg and the silvery script on it could be deciphered even from a distance. The bird perched itself handsomely on the dining table and stuck out the letter carrying leg towards Ron. With shaking fingers, he removed the parchment and looked at Harry nervously.

"Do you reckon this is…that?"

At Harry's assenting nod, he broke open the seal which was in the form of a knife and fork crossed over a silver goblet, the letters IMHMH encircling it and began to read silently. Harry, too, read the contents from above Ron's shoulder.

_**This is an official document in reply to the request put forth by Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Ronald Weasley. If delivered to anyone other than the named gentlemen, kindly send back to the address on the envelope through the owl itself. **_

_19 June 2008_

_To_

_Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley_

_Subject: Reply to letter dated 04 June 2008 – Recruit Required _

_It gives us, at IMHMH, great pleasure to hear from the two very accomplished wizards of today's age. At the outset, let me extend my heartiest good wishes the two of you. Though this is an official letter, I deem it my duty to enquire of the well-being of the two sirs._

_As per your request, it has come to our attention that you hope to employ one of our senior graduates at your house. Indeed it is honorable that our humble institute may be linked to such skilful wizards. However, the recruitment policy issued by the Recruitment Board clearly states that employing of alumnae outside the campus is to be done at a household which includes at least one male as well as female member. It is mandatory that a woman be part of the house to which the recruitment is assigned, as old wizarding manuscripts clearly indicate that ladies are much more skilled at culinary inference than males. Hence, it is hereby requested than you be present at The Institute for Magical Hotel Management and Housekeeping on 20 June 2008 at 10:00 am with a female family member or friend. We shall discuss the details of the program at the scheduled meeting._

_We hope to hear from you soon. Beware that conscription may be done only in the presence of a woman or witch._

_Thanking you_

_Sincerely yours_

_Canabhurst Crabbe_

_Dean, IMHMH._

"Crabbe?!" exclaimed Ron, "He is head of this institute? Isn't he that fat uncle of Malfoy's sidekick?"

However, Harry was more focused on the part of the letter that clearly claimed that attendance was to be in the company of a woman who was part of the household.

* * *

"I'll kill you the instant we get away with the cook."

The declaration was voiced in a deserted alley by a rather tall woman with flowing russet hair that looked a bit too long to be natural. Her physique itself was very firm and strong with rather toned arms. At first glance, she might have been mistaken for a gym instructor clad in mismatching clothes. A green halter top accented her extra large cleavage while a pink skirt showed off a robust backside. The embarrassment of poor clothing choice was hidden by a brown cloak, which coordinated with the hair smoothly.

"Well, the letter did say a woman was mandatory."

"Yeah…but _not _man turned to woman, you prat. Imagine what Fred and George would say if they were to see me like this?"

"Let me think," the black haired man accompanying the woman rubbed his chin, as though in deep thought, "Perhaps, 'You are sooo beautiful!!'"

"Shut it, Harry," the woman snarled, her blue eyes glinting, more with discomfiture than anger, "let's just get this over with."

"Whatever you say, my _darling_! Your wish is my command, Roahna _dear_."

"Oh, how you are going to get it!!"

The two friends sneaked out of the alleyway with the occasional chuckles of Harry disturbing the otherwise quiet atmosphere. After receiving the message from the institute, Harry and Ron had approached Ginny to be part of the _family _as her engagement with Harry was much anticipated. However, the fiery Weasley had clearly refused to partake in any of the men's wild plans. Disappointed, but still hopeful, they had then cornered Hermione and put forward the same proposal. But the brunette had spent an hour lecturing them on the advantages of honesty and its significance in every Gryffindor's life. Ron had yawned and seeing this she had spent another fifteen minutes reprimanding him. Then in the form of a suggestion, which Harry secretly thought of as sweet revenge, she told them to choose between themselves and dress up as a female. Ron had again argued that the suggestion was too devious to be categorized under the realm of honesty to which Hermione had glared and said, "Take it or don't, I'll still have good food to eat."

So, finally Harry had convinced Ron to dress up as Roahna Martin, his close half blood widowed cousin, who had been estranged in Somalia for twenty years and returned to England to look up job opportunities in Gringotts. Ron, being Ron, had fought tooth and nail, saying that he was taller and more masculine and hence the female role was more suited for Harry. Harry, in turn, had pointed out that Ron was much more graceful and skilled in mimicry, thus winning the argument easily.

They now stood before a rather imposing building that to muggles looked like an abandoned restaurant which was closed down due to low funds and an ever-growing infection of moss on the walls. Roahna took Harry's arm as was planned and the two entered the building. With a peon's help, they made their way to the Dean's office that was up three levels and easy to reach through the golden grilled lifts.

"Are you sure this will work? I mean I'm not exactly a woman…I'm so tall and he would think of us as Hagrid and Madam Maxim."

"Doesn't matter as long as we get someone for housework. Glamour charms work wonders. According to Hermione, at least."

At the mention of the she-devil's name who had played a major role in transforming Ron Weasley into the powder drowned joker, the he-female grimaced.

"Yeah," he sighed resignedly, "as long as. Who do you think we will have? Girl or boy?"

Exasperated by his friend's fruitless anxiety, Harry groaned. "Relax, alright! We aren't going for your first childbirth. Honestly, _girl or boy_?! Easy, Ron.

"Remember, you do not talk to the Dean. If he asks you anything, answer in a believable fashion and don't disclose anything through your behavior."

At Ron's, rather Roahna's, somewhat assertive nod, the two moved swiftly to the indicated office of the Head of IMHMH.

* * *

"Ah, Mr. Potter," the bald man seated on the cushioned seat behind the Dean's table greeted, "What a pleasure to be of your service!" He then shook hands with Harry and bowed at Ron, kissing his hand ardently. The brunette in turn scowled and pulled off a grim smile.

"Charmed, Miss. Am truly charmed," he exclaimed, "If I may be so forward, would you be kind to enlighten me with your good name?" Behind his back, Harry turned green, while Ron was fighting hard to unclench his fist.

"Roahna Martin," he croaked in a weak voice, "I'm Harry's cousin."

"Wonderful, delightful. I have never seen or heard of you before. However, the wait is worth it. You are _sooo_…beautiful," the bellied man drawled, eyeing Roahna's bulging cleavage. Harry made a disgusted face, confused whether to laugh or cry at the man's attempt at seduction of the lowest order.

"Mr. Crabbe," he began, before Ron could pummel the burly wizard, "We have been waiting too long for an appointment."

As though just realizing that someone else was in the room, Crabbe turned his hawk like eyes at Harry.

"Indeed," he started, "Our institute is premier in name and reputation. Even celebrities like you have to wait in order to secure a meeting time. Standard procedure, you see. Anyway, regarding your request, we have selected one of our very best graduates. He is smart, talented and the top ranker of our school. I say, you are really fortunate to bag him as an apprentice; one of the most prominent students and belonging to the highest-flying wizarding family. There is a fifteen minute talk session to adjudge his character and a contract to be signed. In case you two are agreeable, we can proceed."

Harry looked at Ron in question, who nodded his consent in as much of a womanly fashion as he could. Canabhurst Crabbe, in turn sent a memo flying through the door.

"He is rather sharp-witted, but a very amiable fellow nevertheless."

The trio waited about ten minutes in silence, after which there was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," said Crabbe.

The door opened to reveal a tall, well-groomed man with a pale complexion and even paler hair. He stood there, dressed in one of the best cloaks Harry had ever seen, and scanned the room. A raised eyebrow was the sole sign of recognition on his sharp features and curious grey eyes turned to Ron.

"YOU!?" the woman a.k.a man screamed. Harry was impressed that he could pull off such a girlish screech in a situation like this.

"Yes?" the man replied calmly, still not recognizing Ron.

"Yes?" Crabbe cried, scared by Ron's rapidly reddening face.

The whole scene was indeed strange with Ron heaving his heavy chest and the supposedly chosen apprentice examining his fingernails. Harry was yet to shut his mouth and Crabbe was nudging Ron with a glass of water in hand. Unexpectedly, the brunette began laughing, a full-on blast of howl included laughter.

"You are a cook? A _cook_? _A cook_? Harry…he…ferret…cook," Ron snorted, struggling hard to breathe.

"Err, Miss Martin, if I may be so forward, may I enquire why you are laughing?"

But Ron was too consumed in his mirth to hear. Harry did not find the situation the least bit funny. Finding out that your school nemesis was about to become a full time chef in your house was certainly no laughing matter. Harry was not all that fond of food poisoning.

At last, Crabbe seemed to realize the gravity of the situation at hand and ignored Ron completely who was still trying to force down chuckles.

"So, Mr. Potter and Miss Martin let me introduce to you-"

"Draco Malfoy," Harry answered for him, extending a hand to shake in greeting.

"Harry Potter, isn't it?" Malfoy smirked, as though he were unsure of Harry's identity, taking his proffered hand and giving it a firm shake.

The shocked atmosphere seemed to have subsided. Ron was gleefully adjusting his long hair and Crabbe was looking from Harry to Draco with interest.

"Mr. Crabbe," Harry said softly, still eyeing Malfoy, "Let me apologize for wasting your precious time, but we do not want a household help anymore."

The announcement drew Ron away from his hilarity and he turned his head towards Harry with incredulity etched on his features. Standing up suddenly, he dragged the other man along with him after flashing a wide smile at Canabhurst.

"You aren't serious, are you?"

"Of course, I'm," Harry replied indignantly, "You don't expect me to eat whatever Malfoy cooks. I may have survived a killing curse but poison is immediate in effect."

"Harry," Ron hushed, looking surreptitiously at the other two men in the room, "This is once in a lifetime opportunity. Malfoy at our mercy, just imagine!"

"There is nothing to imagine. This is inviting disaster and I am personally least inclined to do so."

"But Harry, we'll have a fully trained chef at home. If Crabbe is right, then Malfoy is a top student here and if he tries poisoning us, then he'll land up in Azkaban; what with his history and all."

"Still-"

"Say no more!" Ron held up a hand, silencing him, "In case he tries something funny, I'll take all responsibility and you wouldn't need to know a thing."

"Ron-"

"It's fine. Mr. Crabbe," Ron called, "We are ready to fill up the forms."

* * *

After about an hour the trio of two men and a taller woman strolled out of the alleyway before the institute. Harry was agitated with the new turn of events and was perturbed by Malfoy's strange behaviour. At the outset, he had believed that the blond would react violently to even the suggestion of serving Ron or him. However, instead of the usual viciousness, he had shown indifference of the greatest degree coupled with a bout of curiosity to know Ron's identity.

"Potter," Draco drawled, "I thought you had a thing for that Weasley girl. Redheads boring you?"

_Oh, spoke too soon_, thought Harry. Apparently, flaxen ferrets do not change.

"I can understand. No wonder you left her brother as well. Disgusting lot, I tell you."

The comment was a hard hit for Harry and Ron suddenly stopped smiling.

"Of course," he continued, "Now that you have turned to brunettes, I would have expected Granger to be your first choice."

At the mention of Hermione's name, Ron pushed the blond to a nearby wall, waving a threatening finger before his face. "Don't you dare talk about Hermione like that."

Harry cast a quick disillusionment charm on the surrounding and turned his wand towards Malfoy. Instead of cowering in fear as a thirteen year old Draco would have done, the elder version laughed mockingly.

"My, my Weasley, so desperate that you change your gender for Potter dearest? Your standards have degraded even below the usual low."

"Shut it, Malfoy," Ron snarled, "before I break your neck."

"Are you going to...break _my_ neck in your new womanly approach?"

"The approach hardly matters as long as the neck is yours."

That seemed to have done the trick or rather the blond was just bored with the two men terrorizing him with blunt threats. Shaking off Ron's vicious hold on his neck and eyeing Harry's wand with disinterest, he marched off in front of them.

"You both going to show me your house this century?" he asked without turning.

Harry shot a glare at Ron. He had expected Malfoy to take on his git attitude just as he had done in school and during the war. Now that the three were to live in the same apartment, it became clear to him that the usual calm of his life was sure to be disrupted. Enduring Ron had been tough and the introduction of Malfoy into the mess would redefine the word _mess_ itself. He had foreseen a life filled with trouble as soon as he had caught sight of the blond at the institute and so had immediately refused to appoint him as a chef at his place.

"Nasty ferret!" Ron murmured low, looking at Harry as though he were expecting some sort of approval. On seeing his friend's angry glare, however, he blinked.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing, Ron," he replied calmly, "Malfoy may be nasty but he never invited himself into our lives. This was all your brilliant idea and you promised to take responsibility. So, for a start why don't you take him to our flat? I'm out of here."

"But Harry-" Ron began, taken aback by the wizard's change in temper.

"See you," Harry smiled, waving a hand in farewell and disapparated to their flat. The redhead stared at the empty space vacated by his best mate. Looking up, he caught sight of Malfoy smirking at him in the irritating way that he had presumed he'd never see after his school days.

"Aw…trouble in paradise, eh Weasley?"

Ron refused to give the blond the satisfaction of seeing his face redden further and adjusted the magical brown locks on his head in as much of a dignified manner as he could. Now that there was no pretending, he resembled a woman born with the typical traits of a man. The picture thus presented was a bit unsettling and Draco had to bite his lip to keep from laughing uproariously. Trust Weasley to fancy dress.

"Stuff it Malfoy and get to No.16, Gadstreet Avenue as fast as you can. I like hot coffee for brunch."

"Perhaps you misunderstood my job description. I'll prepare what I like and you'll eat. Playing waiter is something I have no experience with."

"As if I care," Ron grumbled, "Just get home soon."

Thereafter he swiftly apparated thinking that at least the edible food the blond cooks would outshine his prick attitude. He did not know then that he had made a deal with the devil, a smirking, annoying git at that.


End file.
